Arms of the Angel
by blue-eyed fey
Summary: The funeral of a hero is a tragic event, especially such a young hero who did not choose the path he followed.


I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. The song is Sarah McLachlan's "Arms of the Angel".

"You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here"

"What can be said about a boy who rose to fight what so many older than he could not defeat?"

The procession wended its way throughout the streets, grief uniting all who had once been divided. It's strange how death can bring people together. The hearse traveled at the head, followed by mourners of all descriptions. Young and old, either friends, schoolmates of the hero, or those who merely knew his name, followed to pay their respects. The gratitude of a world seemed to bear the coffin along. Children who had grown up hearing his name were stunned that someone their own age was finished with this life. Adults shook their heads and wondered if this was what the world had come to, when parents must bury their children, or never have the chance to see them grown. At the front walked a group, swathed in black, who appeared to have lost more than a hero. They had lost a lover, a friend, a brother. The two girls, walking together, one brunette, one redheaded, walked with a tall, red-haired boy. The three people who knew him best, their grief was written clearly on their faces, along with the anger at the cruel world, which had never allowed the boy to live.

"A funeral fit for our greatest hero" the papers had proclaimed. For days, since his death, rain had fallen, as if the angels themselves wept. The weather had let up, rain no longer fell on the gathered masses. Only tears watered the earth. The grey sky, the mist that hung over the graveyard, seemed to mirror the emotions of those it encompassed, sorrow for the one whose birth had signaled the end. Matching the sky, the earth itself appeared grey. The mist clung to the crypts and headstones, it settled in droplets on the hair and clothing of the mourners, like the pearly tears of a phoenix. Marble and granite are cold, unfeeling stones; they feel no pity, no sorrow. They do not mourn the loss of one so young; stone is merely the carved memory. It does not remember the person who lies beneath. "Here we return his body to the earth, to her loving embrace." But the earth is cold, even with its long memory; dust to dust. Flowers for the dead littered the hearse, and the grave. White lilies adorned both, along with others thrown by the bereaved. The funeral party stood beside the grave, as those who came to say their last farewell passed in tribute.

The man standing at the head of the grave said all of the speeches that ran the gamut, the hope for a better afterlife, those who would mourn a young man who would never have a family of his own, a young man cut down in his prime. The graveyard had never been so full; it was as though the world had come to say good-bye. The procession had covered a full two-mile stretch. Yet that did not seem odd, as if it were only the tip of the iceberg. And, though giving condolences, many could not but stare at the three teenagers standing closest to the grave.

* * *

The brunette stared stonily at the coffin. It was as if she could not feel anything, as if the world had stopped the day her best friend died. Tears ran silently down her face, her posture and face composed. Yet misery was evident in her very composure. The young man standing next to her had his arm around her, as she had hers around him. 

Since I heard him tell us the prophecy I knew this would come.

_The smell of night, crisp and fresh, belied the fear that haunted the three teenagers who crept toward the house. Guards had been posted everywhere, yet now they trickled into the house. "Perfect," whispered Ginny, "we might actually be able to get close enough to find him." But even as she said it, they felt a sense of foreboding in the air. Lights flashed from inside, curse and spell lights. "It has begun," Hermione whispered, "a duel to the death." _

He had know so much unhappiness, what was death after his cursed life? Fate is cruel, to give someone like him the life she did. Yet he plowed on, despite everything in his way. Oh, how he hated to ask anyone, even me, for help! A part of me always knew that he would never have a normal life, even by our standards, although I hoped, for both their sakes that for once Fate would be kind. The hero in a story always gets the girl and vanquishes evil; he is not afraid and always knows the task before him. But this is not a book. He was afraid, though he would never show it, and he rarely had any of the answers. Books don't have all the answers, if I have learned anything, it is that. No book can tell us what happens after death.

"No spell can reawaken the dead."

We have seen so much death in the past seven years, more so in the last four. Classmates, loved ones, friends, and mentors have all fallen to death. Now it claims our hero. No one can understand what it is like to live with a legend, whether as a friend, an advisor and, sometimes, over-shadowed.

_Suddenly, a hooded figure came out of the house, and saw the three. Giving a shout, the figure came toward them at a run. "I think now would be a good time to go," said Ginny. "Right," said Ron, "where, do you think?" "Stopping him from calling backup would be an even better idea," commented Hermione, drawing her wand and shooting a Full Body-Bind at the oncoming Death Eater. "Come on, we have to find Harry." They crept quietly toward the house as more Death Eaters came running out. But they didn't seem to attack the friends standing near the house; they seemed to be running for their lives. The light coming from the house still flashed, but more furiously, seeking the ultimate victory for either side. As they got closer to the outpouring swarm, several Death Eaters spotted the teenagers and attacked. Battling for their own lives, as well as trying to stay together, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were swept along in the panic-ridden crowd. Curses flew everywhere; Ginny demonstrated that her reputation as a fierce fighter was well deserved, holding her own along with her brother and friend. _

_Then the house lit up, a great beam of light shooting straight up into the sky, banishing the cloudy night. With the light it was as if the battle on the lawn was frozen. And the house exploded._

While it is hard for me to say good-bye to the friend I saw as a brother, it is doubly hard for her. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose the only person you have ever loved. Yet she is still standing, strong. It is something that would break me. Even her brother cannot help her, so caught up in his own misery he cannot see that a part of her has died. Maybe the only reason I see it is because a part of me lost something when he died, not the same part, but something inside me is missing. He was my greatest friend. God knows there were days when I found him insufferable. When he and Ron fought during fourth year I nearly screamed from frustration at their immaturity. Thinking back on the last seven years, I can see how he kept the three of us together, despite our attempts to mangle everything. We never really fought much before fourth year, but that year and from then on saw plenty. I guess it's just part of growing up. Between the three of us we were always trying to hold it together, tearing ourselves apart, denying the fact that we couldn't live without each other. But the fights when he tried to be noble were horrible. Couldn't he see that we would never let him face death alone? We aren't the ones who needed rescuing. He needed us, just as we needed him.

"You said it to us once before, that we could turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

Fate put the boys in the same compartment on that first train ride. The troll in the bathroom was just dumb luck, although if Ron hadn't been horrible to me and he hadn't been a budding hero, they would never have had to save me. We each have our strengths, and that is what made us friends, and a team.

* * *

Red hair was covered by a black veil. Her world had spun out of control; he was gone. Sympathy was given to the two older teenagers, but many, especially those who knew of their relationship well, reserved a special place in their hearts for the young woman. From where she stood in front of her friend and brother she was in full view of the world. Her tears glistened on pale skin, too pale, for she had spent little time in the sun since that night. It was as if, to her, the sun had no right to shine on her misery. 

_Everyone on the lawn was thrown to the ground, most unconscious. None of the teenagers awoke for more than ten minutes. Ron was the first awake, and he reached over, looking for Hermione or Ginny, but found no one. He leapt up, yelling, "Hermione! Ginny! Where are you?" Ron scanned the lawn, frantically looking for the two girls. Fifteen feet away he saw a mass of bushy brown hair stirring. Hermione was alive. But that still left Ginny missing. _

There is no justice in the world. He was stolen from all of us, from me. I have loved him since I first saw him, standing unsure at King's Cross Station.

'"Hello dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."'

I stood beside my mother and stared at the skinny boy with broken glasses. And from the moment he spoke, I was smitten.

'"The thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to - "'

He was so sweet, something that never left him, except for that whole incident over Christmas during his fifth year. But in his temper, he was sweet, after a fashion, in his ridiculous and noble way. After all, he never wanted to hurt anyone; he just wanted to be another student, not our Chosen One, to grow up normal. Although 'normal' is such a relative term. Nobility is a fine characteristic, but it hurts, too. My heart was in pieces, at that first funeral, not only from the loss of the greatest wizard of our age, but when he told me we couldn't be together anymore. I always knew, in some way, that this would happen. In so many ways I would always be his best mate's little sister, no matter how long we were together. He may have loved me, but it was a love that was hardly foremost in his mind. Fighting for his survival, and everyone else's, was a priority, which was part of the reason I loved him.

_Hermione managed to get up, looking around as she did for the others. Ron hurried over and asked, "Are you alright?" "Yes, I'm fine. Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked, still looking around. Ron shook his head, "I can't find her." Not far away, Ginny was already up and hurrying towards the house. As she reached what had been the front steps, her friends saw her and ran towards the house, calling for her to wait. As the two older teenagers came up, Ginny jigged impatiently. "We have to check the house," she said breathlessly, "he could still be alive." Ron and Hermione exchanged looks and looked up at the house. It was destroyed, but they had to hope._

* * *

Beside the brunette, his arms around her, supporting her as she sobbed, stood the tall redheaded young man. His face was pale, it seemed as if he had no emotions, his face was so blank. But those standing with him knew better: he had lost the friend that had made him someone more than the sixth son. Behind those blank eyes was a young man who had lost someone as close to him as a brother; it was as if he had lost his right arm. He looked at his sister, her face covered by a veil and tears silently running down her cheeks. The girl in his arms had regained her composure, but still he did not let go. At that moment, whatever misgivings he had had about his sister and best mate vanished. The young man would give anything to have his best mate back, just to see his sister smile. 

_Ron had never seen a house in this state, not even the Shrieking Shack, destroyed after years of werewolf transformations. Beams still smoldered and fell occasionally. Furniture, whatever hadn't been destroyed in the initial blast, lay helter-skelter throughout the house. Few walls stood intact, the house had gone up in a blaze of instant fire, only to go out as fast. "Let's fan out," Hermione's voice shook. "Maybe we'll find something that way." Ginny nodded silently, her face hopeful. Ron could not hide his shock. He reached out to Hermione, grabbing her by the arm and whispered in her ear, "Stay with Ginny. I don't want her to see anything that might, you know…" "Yeah, I know." Hermione looked up at him, understanding that they might just have to be strong for the other girl. Then Ron hurried off, toward the main room, its door hung crazily off its hinge. The girls went in the other direction. Ron pushed the remains of the door aside and looked into the room. "Oh, God!" Both girls stopped, turned, and ran back toward him. As she came up, Hermione asked, breathlessly, "Ron, what is it?" Ginny came hurrying behind her, a few paces back. "Don't let her come in here!" Ron said, his voice high with fear. "Keep her back, Hermione!" Hermione reached out to grab the younger girl who was trying to claw her way past. "Ginny, don't…" _

* * *

"I am one of four who stood at the top of the highest Astronomy Tower and swore when we found out one of us wanted to marry soon that we would protect our families from this madness. I have failed my friend, closer than brothers, in this promise, for here lies his son. And I wish to God that it were me instead. I am the last of those four: two died, before they even lived, the greatest of us all. I loved them both and would have done anything for them to succeed in a world that was theirs for the taking. I should have been the one who died. One of us should never have been born. 

But let us not speak of betrayal and treachery, let us speak of love: the love between friends who would stare Death in the face to save the others, the love of a son for the family he never had, and yes, even the loss of true love never realized."

He paused to look at the three standing closest to him, the older two supported each other, silently comforting the other, the younger woman stood alone with tears, which had never stopped, running down her face. They had only had a few shining months together. Life wasn't fair. At least Ron and Hermione had each other; Lupin knew full well what it was like to lose a brother.

_"My God." The devastation was incredible; the entire house had been blown to pieces. It would be a miracle if the children had survived the blast. Aurors and members of the Order now swarmed the lawn where only half an hour before Death Eaters had attempted to flee. Even now several were being arrested, those that had been incapacitated by spells or the blast. Lupin began to comb through the ruins, hoping to find any survivors. None of the children had yet been found. As he ducked several falling beams he thought he saw movement in what was left of the next room over. Drawing his wand Lupin walked forward, cautiously. Then he heard a sound that would haunt him the rest of his life: the anguished scream of a woman in pain. "NO!! No, he can't be! Please, no! Harry? HARRY!!!" _

"Love is the only power stronger than Death, it is eternal. I have witnessed it, in the eyes of my greatest friend and the woman he adored, and in the eyes of parents looking at their newborn son. We four who swore together are the ones who should not be present. This boy, this man, shouldered a burden we could not, a task, which defeated us, grown men; it is he who should be here today. This man, our fallen hero, did not follow a path of his own choosing, but rather one that he was thrust upon. And he rose to it as none thought he would, defeating the creature that killed his family, his childhood, his happiness; for who among us can say that this man did not suffer. He shouldered the burden of our world, and saved us all, all who should have protected him.

The virtues this man possessed are too many to number, suffice to say he was, perhaps, the greatest. He did what others could not, and he did it with love. Not once did he waver, not once did he turn from the path before him, not once did he ask that someone else finish the task. We honor today the man who showed the world what a hero is. Here lies Harry Potter, beside his family, reunited. May you at last find peace."

* * *

_The day had finally come. Harry had found the last Horcrux only days before and destroyed it. As night fell he slipped out of the house where he, Ron, and Hermione had been staying. The day before Ginny had come, Hogwarts had let out for the summer, and Mrs. Weasley felt that the two boys and Hermione were incapable of feeding themselves properly and had sent Ginny with a care package. _

_Leaving the house Harry Apparated to the hidden cottage where he knew Wormtail would be hiding. It wouldn't be hard to get Wormtail to talk, that had been proven many times over. Harry would make him tell him where Voldemort was hiding. Arriving at the house, it was too easy to make Peter Pettigrew talk, Harry had just asked and pulled out his wand. Harry left the house with a POP! in disgust. He arrived at the house, smaller than he had expected, knowing Voldemort's love of pomp and prestige Harry had presumed that the house would be grand. He walked across the lawn and stood in front of the house, waiting._

_He had promised that Ron and Hermione would help him, and they had. The Horcruxes were destroyed, save Nagini and the last piece of Tom Riddle that was left in his body. Harry knew that when Ron and Hermione found him gone they would try to find him, but if everything went to plan they would be safe. This was the part of the mission when nothing they could do would help, only hinder. The last thing Harry wanted to worry about before he finished the prophecy was whether his friends were all right. Once Riddle was finished Harry would go back and tell them that it was over._

_But things did not go to plan, not even close. When Harry Apparated onto the front lawn of the house where Voldemort had his base Death Eaters spotted him at once and took him inside. The duel began, Voldemort had lost the last piece of reason he possessed and attacked irrationally. Harry was able to dodge and block the opening curses, but after a while things spun out of control. Two wizards so evenly matched could not kill each other and Harry could not see a way for either to gain an advantage. It was true that Voldemort had years of experience on his side but as the saying goes "Youth and strength, age and treachery." And in this case youth was winning. Until Harry didn't move in time and a spell cut him, deeply. Spells had been flying in every direction and one made contact. Harry went down hard. He thought of a way that the madness could end, but knew that there was a possibility that it would finish him as well._

_When destroyed the last several Horcruxes had exploded. If Harry could destroy those in Nagini and Voldemort it might just kill him. Nagini had been circling the room, watching. Harry flung a spell her direction, killing the snake and releasing a seventh of Tom Riddle's mangled soul. And with that Voldemort realized what Harry had been doing these last months and renewed his attacks. Harry moved and blocked more slowly now; he was losing blood fast and finally saw an opening. In his heart he had never wanted to use a spell like this. It had to be done. Drawing upon the grief and rage he had felt for seventeen years, every abuse from the Dursleys, and every loving person that this creature had stolen from him, Harry Potter cast the spell that no one but he had ever survived. And when the curse found its mark Harry only had time to see the look of shock on Tom Riddle's deformed face before the blast consumed them all. _

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance

For the break that will make it OK

There's always some reason to feel not good enough

And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction or a beautiful release

Memories seep from my veins

Let me be empty and weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight.

In the arms of the Angel far away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you feel

You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here.

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn

There's vultures and thieves at your back

The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies

That you make up for all that you lack

It don't make no difference, escape one last time

It's easier to believe

In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness

That brings me to my knees

In the arms of the Angel far away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you feel

You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie


End file.
